


Rain

by BleatingGoat (Nat20)



Series: A Fox's Fire [1]
Category: Flight Rising
Genre: Blood, Coping, M/M, Not Beta Read, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-18 13:28:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18700546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nat20/pseuds/BleatingGoat
Summary: Sir Irwin obtained an injury to his right leg that left him crippled and unable to walk well without a cane. Years later, the incident that caused that injury is still very fresh in his mind.





	Rain

**Author's Note:**

> Irwin got hurt way back in my lore, well before Bovidae was ever a thing. Also, him and Cenric have been dating for a long while now. Aishe will be important much later in this little story arc.

It was raining. The damp smell of mud and leaves and the distant, almost forgotten, stench of flowers. Roses. The bamboo forests were thick and hard to navigate in the dark. The pounding rain covered the noise of the distant battles, only some cries reaching through the cacophony of nature. Other than the rain and the stray sound of metal clashing, there was nothing. The only tracks in the mud were those of large dragons. Imperials, guardians and ridgebacks. There was no rhyme nor reason to the tracks. Going to and from the small clan grounds. Irwin strained to hear past the rain as he studied the footprints, eyes rising to the dark forest around him. Searching for something. The shadows coiled in distrust of itself, his own seeming to grow larger to cover more protective ground behind him. Eyes in the back of his head.

The thunder roared outside and Irwin jumped, staring at the oaken table in front of him. Its dark, polished surface reflecting the lights overhead. The room was warm, comfortable. It was a small space, fit only for the table up against the wall, a couch pressed up under the window-bound reading nook. It had become Irwin's favorite spot. A little space he fit in just fine, filled with comfortable pillows and soft blankets. Curtains all the way around to block offending sunlight while still letting him look out over the canyon and its inhabitants. Right now, though, the curtains were drawn tight. They lit up when lighting flashed above, the rain beating against the window like a stranger wanting to get in.

“Here,” said Cenric, his voice hardly above a whisper. He placed down a tea cup, steam rising from the dark liquid. Irwin took the cup with a small hum of thanks, wrapping his hands around its clay body.

It burned at first. A little too hot, but it soon became a comfortable pain. He felt his heart slowly coming to a resting pace. He stared down into the tea, back at his own reflection. He was tired. Bags hung heavy under his eyes and his antenna were drooping further than usual. He gave them an experimental twitch, the act nearly exhausting in and of itself. He could feel Cenric's concern and worry. The emotions had assaulted Irwin's sensitive antenna early that morning when the rain started. It had been raining harder then, loud enough to hear it from the bedroom. That must had been what sparked the nightmares. On silent, rain-free nights Irwin slept easier. Bovidae was routinely dry. Rain hardly touched its parched lips. But today marked the true beginning of the much anticipated wet season.

“Do you want to stay in today?” Cenric asked, his voice never rising above that soft tone. He reached out with his hand and rubbed his thumb on Irwin's arm. The warmth from his touch radiated through Irwin's body. His antenna twitched curiously as he raised his small headdress of feathers slightly. He watched his brow furrow in the tea and a frown creep across his lips.

“No. I have work to do. I need to go to the palace.” His own voice surprised him. Softer than the usual gruff tones Irwin adopted over the years. He sounded out of place. A slight quiver. His hands wrapped tighter around the tea cup. His throat was too dry to drink. Thunder boomed again, rattling the windows. The rain was coming down harder. Irwin's antenna folded tight to his head, his headdress closing. His facial expression never changed in his reflection. He refused to meet Cenric's gaze.

“Can you do that work here? If I get it for you?” Cenric never removed his hand. He kept up the gentle stroking, his rough thumb pad adding a new sensation Irwin clung onto. His breathing was steady now.

“Probably,” Irwin answered softly. The tea's steam was dancing in the air, making intricate designs.

“Will you be alright if I leave for a little bit?”

Irwin was quiet for a moment. “Probably,” he said much quieter. He hardly heard it himself. Cenric squeezed his arm and was silent for a few moments. Irwin looked up when Cenric moved away to grab his coat and slip on his boots.

“I'll be back before you know it,” he said, placing a gentle kiss to the top of Irwin's head. His warmth was gone only a moment later, following by the click of the door. Irwin heard the lock slide into place and he let his shoulders relax for a moment. The rain continued to fall. He took the chance to look around. He was in their living room. Sitting at their table. With a cup of slowly cooling tea in his hands. The air smelled of peppermint and vanilla. There was the soft clicking of the wall clock in the kitchen. A gentle buzz of the electrical lights overhead. The air was warm and comfortable despite the rising humidity outside. He was in his pajamas. Soft lounge pants with one of Cenric's shirts completed with the goat themed slippers Elva had gifted Irwin on his birthday. He made a point to wear them at all times, including when guests were in the home.

There was a soft hoot of concern from the corner of the living room. Irwin looked towards the noise and his gaze met the masked face of the icy owl Cenric lovingly cared for. The owl titled her head to the side and was over on the table a second later.

“Hello, Mar,” Irwin cooed softly, scratching the owl's chin. The feathers were pleasantly cold. The thunder boomed again and Irwin sucked in a sharp breath. Mar bumped her head against Irwin's hand, distracting him from the noise. After a few moments, he brought the tea cup to his lips. He frowned deeper when he felt the cold liquid. With a sigh, Irwin stood up, grabbing his cane, and slowly moved to the kitchen. He put the kettle on.

He heard Mar's gentle and trilling hoot of concern. He ignored it and her masked gaze watching him from the back of his abandoned chair. She was not allowed in the kitchen. She knew this very well. He brought his hand to his mouth, running a finger over his lip as he watched the kettle. He could still hear the rain and the booms of thunder, muffled only slightly by the sound of the water slowly heating up.

The smell of dirt and mud hit him hard. Irwin shut his eyes and tried to focus on the scents of peppermint and vanilla, but the stench of mud and rain and the distant odor of blood overpowered it. He heard a branch snap. Felt the impact as a much larger body rammed into his own. He felt the mud squelch under his weight and the pounding of pain in his head. Claws buried into his leg, ripping at the delicate muscles and tendons like they were pieces of wet paper. His throat burned from his screams that cracked and filled with mud as he was tossed from side to side. His head hurt and throbbed from the impacts. His back was killing him. His leg was filled with blinding, searing pain as teeth dug into the skin of his thigh. The crunch of bones as blood rushed to his head from being held upside down. The teeth buried into his flesh keeping him poised above ground. Blood splashed in his face from the wounds, the hot and bitter taste filling his mouth and coating his tongue. Stars danced in his vision. He couldn't move.

He felt the sick feeling of mud under him as he tried to crawl away. His leg was dead weight. A loud chuckle sounded from behind him, filled with something Irwin couldn't place. Claws dug into his leg and dragged him back. He screamed, grasping for any support or handle in the mud.

The kettle was whistling. Irwin blinked several times, feeling his heart hammering against his chest. He tasted blood. Shaking hands moved away from his lips, blood coating his finger tips. Torn skin under his nails. He took the kettle off and shut off the stove. Irwin leaned heavily on his cane, taking deep, calming breaths. The thunder rolled and the rain continued to fall. He heard Mar give another distressed hoot. She spread her wings as if to fly into the kitchen and stopped. Irwin took another deep breath and left the kitchen. He held out his hand, letting her jump onto his arm. She was heavy, but it was comforting.

Irwin stared at her masked face for a few moments. He tasted the fading copper in his mouth. He felt twinges of pain begin to travel up his right leg. He felt his lower back starting to ache and burn. Irwin moved towards the bedroom, letting Mar jump to his shoulder as he opened the door. It was dark and with the door closed mostly quiet. Save for the violent rain and thunder outside.

He sat on the bed and leaned his cane against the wall. Mar flew to one of her perches, watching him intently with gentle hoots. Irwin laid down, curling up into a tight ball under the blankets. He pulled them over his head, trying to drown out the sound of the rain, the memories of that night.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Cenric ran as fast as he could up the steps of the palace to the war room. He opened the door and slipped in quickly, moving over to Irwin's desk. He had hardly noticed the other soul. The moment she stood up he jumped and his right hand went to his side. He forgot his sword.

She held her hands up, giving a soft smile. Her eyes were filled with nothing but apologies and kindness. A gloomwillow guide rested on her shoulder, eyeing Cenric curiously before giving a happy, welcoming trill.

“My apologies,” she said softly, holding out her hand. “I'm Lady Aishe. Are you Sir Irwin, by any chance?”

Cenric shook her hand, pleasantly surprised by how firm it was. “Afraid not. I'm Sir Cenric. I was just grabbing some things for Ir-, err, Sir Irwin to do while its raining. May I ask for the reason of your visit?”

“Oh, certainly. Two things, really. First, I wanted to speak to him about something rather personal. Second, I'm one of Bovidae's new strategist. I was claimed by the Donnelly family just the other day.”

“Training?”

“Paladin.”

“Good work,” Cenric nodded. He scooped some of the papers and books on Irwin's desk up and awkwardly tried to tuck them into his jacket. He huffed in disappointment as he placed them back down and shrugged off his coat.

“May I help?” Aishe asked, taking a step closer. She eyed Cenric's missing left arm for a split second before making eye contact.

“Oh, yes, please. Thank you kindly, Lady Aishe.” He stepped to the side and watched her carefully wrap up the documents in the jacket before handing it back to him. He held the makeshift package close to his chest, studying her.

“Let me get the door for you,” she said with that kind smile. Cenric followed her towards the door, giving a thankful nod when he left the room. He stopped, Aishe closing the door behind him. She turned to look at him with a puzzled expression.

“Um, he should be back once the rain stops,” he says. Something flashed in Aishe's eyes. Concern. Worry. Sympathy.

“Of course, sir. I'll look for him around then. Thank you. Have a pleasant afternoon.” She smiled again and waved a hand, turning to walk the opposite way down the hall. Cenric watched her go for a few seconds before scampering his way back to his and Irwin's apartment. The rain was starting to come down harder than before. He escaped from the downpour once he entered the caves, making his way up makeshift stairs to their floor. He moved down the hallway at an ever increasing pace, cursing when he finally got to the door. He carefully placed the package on the ground as he fished out his key, unlocked the door, and slipped inside. He grabbed the package before he shut the door with his foot.

It was quiet. The teacup was still on the table but long since cold. Cenric put the package on the table and made his way to the bedroom. He creaked open the door, finding Mar pressed up against Irwin's back. She gave Cenric a hoot before gliding back to her perch. Slowly, Cenric sat down next to the ball of blankets. He placed his hand against it and heard a soft whimper in return.

“My leg hurts,” he heard Irwin mumble. If it wasn't for the fact Cenric had heard that phrase for so long now he may have had to ask Irwin to repeat himself. But he knew. He understood.

“What would you like me to do?” Cenric asked, pulling the blankets away from Irwin's head. The sight of tear-stained cheeks and red eyes made Cenric's heart hurt. He wanted to get Irwin's medication, but a quick glance at the bedside table told him Irwin had already taken some. His eyes went back to his partner's. He studied the dried blood on Irwin's lips. He shouldn't have been so stupid as to leave him alone. He didn't know there was going to be a small traffic jam on the main road to the palace from here.

“Sleep,” Irwin finally said. Cenric stood up and kicked off his shoes and shed his shirt. He crawled into bed and pulled Irwin close to him, letting the smaller man turn so his face was in Cenric's chest. Cenric felt Irwin trembling now. It probably hurt to move, much less talk. Even years after constant physical therapy the pain didn't always recede. The doctors said Irwin's leg was structurally fine now, although still permanently injured. The muscles had been ripped and torn to shreds. It was a miracle he still had it. But the pain that came from days like this was something more than pain from the injury. Wounds can heal and close. But sometimes that pain came back full force as the day someone got it.

Cenric wrapped his arm around Irwin and buried his face into Irwin's messy hair. He couldn't take away this pain. But he could at least be here during it. He felt Irwin burying his nails into his back when waves of the pain came and went. The hurt Cenric felt was nothing compared to the turmoil over his current uselessness. He closed his eyes and hoped this all passed soon.

 


End file.
